Freedom
by Amber Dawn
Summary: There was just something in the way she moved. Confidence, to anyone who didn't care enough to notice the shyness, the nervous little twittering just at the edge of her careful persona.... [JoanneMarkMaureen, Mark POV]


**Title**: Freedom  
**Pairing**: Joanne/Mark/Maureen  
**Warnings and Notes**: Poly themes, lesbians, references to tehGAYZ0R BOYZ LOL, sex. Fits with Movie-canon best. Mark's POV.  
**Disclaimer**: Re: Characters. Do not own. Do not rent. Used without permission. Re: Profit from fic. None.

_Freedom's rough  
So we take our stand and fight for tomorrow  
Finally, we got something  
Something we can bring down the house with..._  
from _Proud_, Tegan and Sara.

There was just something in the way she moved. Confidence, to anyone who didn't care enough to notice the shyness, the nervous little twittering just at the edge of her careful persona. She was bold, and sassy, and just a little vulnerable, and most importantly, _not_ Maureen. Sounds great, right? Sounds like Mark Cohen finally found someone new. Yeah, great. There's a big, giant, GLARING problem with this new woman in Mark Cohen's life.

She was _Joanne_.

For the third time that night, I groaned and dropped my head onto the cold metal table, the pencil I'd been using skittering over the table and dropping on the floor. Every time I tried to concentrate on this script, _she_ kept invading my head. Her and Maureen and the things they were probably doing right this instant...

"_Damn_ it!" I moaned, stood, and grabbed my scarf. Roger had a little grin on his face, the stupid smirking bastard, watching me as he tuned his Fender.

"Need more footage?" he asked, casually, and strummed the guitar once. A frown, and he turned his attention back to the sheet of paper on the couch next to him, pen fetched from behind his ear.

"I'm going to Maureen's," I told him, but I don't think he heard me. Musicians have an odd habit of getting lost in their work.

Like I'm one to talk.

A bike ride through the cold streets later, and I was there. At the door. Ready to knock.

This was NOT me. I wasn't some pathetic loser lusting after an established lesbian! I couldn't be. It was just Maureen I wanted. Joanne was just a convient place-holder. Armed with this knowledge (and the additional knowledge I was full of _shit_), I turned and started back outside.

The door opened. I almost froze, almost turned, just to see her.

"Mark!"

Arms were around my waist then, and it wasn't Joanne's form against my back, but an altogether too familiar frame. Lithe, full of energy, absolutely beautiful. Maureen.

"You weren't gonna just LEAVE like that, were you?" she asked, teasing, playful. I could imagine the pout on her face, and turned in her arms. Sure enough, that lower lip was stuck out a mile, just begging me to lean down and take it between my own lips, nibble it, suck on it...

Argh.

"I...I forgot to make sure Roger took his AZT," I murmured. Lamely, might I add.

"Roger's a big boy, you know. He can take care of himself."

THAT voice was the one I wanted to hear. Deeper, deadpan, a touch of amusement.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think the two of you were lovers," Joanne continued, crossing her arms and leaning in the doorway. Maureen's eyes went wide, and her grin wider, backing up to stand next to her lover. And my face felt like it was on fire in seven different places.

"We're not...I'm not...I don't...Oh, screw you both!" I turned my head, almost smiling at their combined laughter. Joanne just a chuckle, Maureen almost falling over in giggles. They were both so PERFECT. But most especially together. They complimented each other. I thought something might have been missing, but I always dismissed that as wishful thinking.

Maureen was committed, as odd as THAT was, to Joanne and Joanne alone.

"Come in, Mark. We were just going to have dinner," Joanne said, and pushed off from the door, ducking back inside. Maureen glanced over her shoulder at me, that delicious come-hither look tempting me more than I'd been tempted in a LONG while, and I followed them both inside.

I don't remember the meal, not in its entirety. Fettuccine, I think, but I've been wrong in the past. I was too busy trying to pretend I wasn't at ALL uncomfortable. Maureen was my ex, Joanne was a lesbian. I had NO chance, even if I'd wanted it. It wasn't until Joanne reached across the table, hesitantly, and cast a look at Maureen from the corner of her eye when her hand met mine, that I wondered why they already had three places set when I walked in.

"I've...got a confession," Joanne said. Her voice was softer than I remember it being, and the nervousness evident in it was only heightened by the fact that her hand was trembling.

"We," Maureen corrected, putting her arms around Joanne's shoulders. I blinked; what could they want to confess to me? Was it because my camera wasn't with me (shock!)? Maybe because I had a trustworthy face?

"...Um, okay," I managed, blinking owlishly. Joanne nailed me with a look...Honesty was there, flickering in those warm chocolate eyes of hers, tinged with a hint of nerves, and...something else, something I later managed to identify. I glanced from her, to Maureen...whose eyes were locked on Joanne. Her smile was sweet, encouraging, and her eyes were so very supportive. She looked over at me, and smiled wider.

"Maureen and I have been...talking," Joanne started, then shook her head. "I've been talking, mostly. Maureen's been knocking sense into me." The grim smile she flashed said a million words, all of them floating around my own mind. Maureen? Knocking sense into _Joanne_? Not possible.

"Aww, pookie, you were being _silly_!" Maureen interjected, and Joanne laughed a little. Her eyes closed, and she took a breath.

"We want to know if...well, we don't know if you'll be interested, but...Mark, I haven't been able to get you out of my mind since Maureen's performance...And Maureen...Maureen can't either."

I blinked. I swallowed. I cleared my throat. This wasn't making sense. I wondered if I had fallen asleep during dinner.

"Um..."

"We want to know...if maybe..."

Maureen sighed, thunked her head on the table, and then looked up at me.

"We want to know if you'll be our boyfriend," she said. Loudly, matter-of-factly. Typically Maureen.

And, like anything typically Maureen tends to render me, I was speechless. This had to be some cruel, cruel joke.

"But...I mean...Maureen, you broke up with _me_," I said, my mouth hanging open like a fish out of water.

"Uh-huh. What's your point?" She was grinning. HAD to be a joke. "People break up with people all the time, and still love them."

"And Joanne! You...you're a lesbian! You don't like guys!" That was what got to me. Joanne hadn't _ever_ expressed interest in anything with a penis. Even a cat, she said, would have to be female.

"Well, yes...but...you know how it goes. You don't always know who you'll wind up falling for..." She paused, moved her hands from mine. Took a sip of her water, and cleared her throat. "And...This isn't easy for me. God knows I didn't want to fall for you, of all people. Maureen's ex, my bitter rival..." a grin, "...but I can't help it. I'm willing to try it. I've...never had a boyfriend. But I've never felt this way about a man before, so...who knows? Maybe I'm not lesbian! Maybe I'm a closet heterosexual!"

We laughed over that, then, and moved to the couch. Wordlessly, as if we were all thinking the same thing. Maureen sat on Joanne's lap, and I sat next to them. Facing them, with one leg on the couch. And we talked. God, did we talk. All night, it felt like, discussing the ins and outs and hows and whys. I'd never, NEVER been in a three-way relationship. Neither had Joanne. Neither had Maureen, at least not an open and honest one like this. We talked until Maureen got up to get a bottle of wine, and both Joanne and I watched her go. Admired her backside. It's a NICE backside, I admit.

And then, Joanne leaned over closer to me. Her hand found its way to my cheek, and she just looked at me. Stared into my eyes for the longest time. Faintly, in the distance, I heard the kitchen door open, Maureen stop and watch. I felt her bemused little grin, as Joanne leaned in, and kissed me. Full, hard, right on the lips. Just like I'd kissed Maureen so many times, way back when.

There was _freedom_ in that kiss. Freedom, and the passion I'd only seen her share with Maureen, and promises so delicious I couldn't help but drown in them. And drown I did, all night long, with her and with Maureen. Sometimes together, sometimes seperate, sometimes just watching the two of them...I don't think I've ever felt that alive in my life.

When I got back to the loft, the sun was rising and Roger was still on the couch. Without even looking up at me, at my rumpled clothes, my tousseled hair, he grinned.

"Finally got up the nerve, huh?"

...I never did learn what he meant by that.


End file.
